


Crazy Butch and the Dumpster Kids

by squadrickchestopher



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crack, Deaf Clint Barton, Drunk Clint Barton, Gen, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, I Blame Tumblr, Poor Life Choices, a deaf guy and a blind guy end up in a dumpster, and this is the result, matt murdock is annoyed someone else is in his dumpster, this is stupid but also I'm slightly proud of it ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23897932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/pseuds/squadrickchestopher
Summary: Short little drabble from a tumblr post I saw:clint barton being thrown into a dumpster only to find out that he is not the only one in that dumpstermatt murdock being slightly offended that someone else has been thrown into his dumpster
Relationships: Clint Barton & Matt Murdock
Comments: 8
Kudos: 186





	Crazy Butch and the Dumpster Kids

Clint hadn’t _meant_ to get into a fight. He’d wanted to go out, find a bar, drink his utter shit-show of a day into oblivion, then stumble home and sleep forever. And to be fair, the first parts of the plan had gone _spectacularly_.

Then he’d stumbled onto a mugging, and some little still-sensible part of him had gone _you’re an Avenger, you should probably stop that._ He’d told it to take a hike, but then the woman had started crying, and still-sensible Clint nudged a little more insistently, and he’d sighed and gotten to work. Even drunk off his ass, it had taken him barely a minute to dispatch the two thugs and hand the lady’s purse back to her.

Then a absolute brick house of a man had come storming down the alley, like a scarier version of Andre the Giant, and had started whaling on Clint for no apparent reason. Clint managed to put it together in between punches—this was Brick House’s street, and how dare he interrupt the hard work of the muggers, and now he’s gonna get his face beat off. The usual threats.

Clint’s faced off against the Hulk, so he’s not particularly scared of this guy. But he usually does that _sober_ , and right now he’s having a hard time seeing straight.

He tiredly ducks another punch, then catches the follow-up one in his ribs. “Fuck,” he wheezes, stumbling to the side. He braces himself on the brick wall, feeling the rough grittiness of it on his blood-slicked fingertips. This is just _not_ his night.

Brick House spits at his feet. “This street belongs to Crazy Butch,” he snarls through a mouthful of unpleasantly yellow teeth. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Man, I’m just trying to get home,” Clint says. “I don’t even know who Crazy Butch _is_ , so—“

“I’M CRAZY BUTCH!” he roars, pounding his chest, like Clint is supposed to be impressed or something. Spoiler alert—he’s not.

Crazy Butch picks up on this, apparently, because his beady little eyes narrow and he hits Clint again, right on the _ear,_ goddamn it. Then he picks him up with embarrassing ease, takes three massive steps to the left, and drops him right in a fucking dumpster. “Don’t come back!” he snarls, and stalks off.

“Rude,” Clint says through a mouthful of blood.

There’s a fizzing noise in his ear. He reaches up and tugs out his hearing aid, wincing as it sparks out in his hand with a sad little blip. Fuck. Now he’s down to one, and the battery’s been iffy on it all day. He’d meant to have Stark look at them, he’ll have to—

“Who the hell are you?”

Clint awkwardly turns his head. “Huh?”

There’s another guy in here already. He’s dressed all in black, with a black mask pulled down over his eyes. Clint’s barely able to distinguish him from the background.

“Who the hell are you?” Clint says. He starts to sit up, then decides not to. Maybe he’ll just sleep here. Wouldn’t even be the worst place he’s ever slept—which is just _sad_ , honestly. He needs to rethink his life.

“I asked first,” the man says. He’s leaning against the garbage bags, hand pressed to his side. Clint can see the shine of blood in the faint moonlight. Another Crazy Butch victim? _What is with this guy and dumpsters?_

“Clint Barton,” he says.

“The Avenger?”

“No, the accountant.” He shifts his weight and manages to roll onto his side. “Who are you?”

There’s a moment of irritated silence. “Matt Murdock.”

“Nice place you got.” Clint eases himself up into sitting. His vision is blurry. He’s not sure if it’s from the headshot or the alcohol. Both, probably. “Come here often?”

“Unfortunately.”

Clint spits out a mouthful of blood and probes at a loose tooth. “Ugh.” He looks over at Murdock. “Your mask is upside down,” he informs him. “How do you see?”

“I’m blind,” Murdock says, like this is supposed to be obvious.

“That’s cool. I’m deaf.” Clint lets his head drop back, right into the sharp edge of a box. “Ow.”

“Why are you here?” Murdock sounds annoyed, like this is his dumpster or something, and Clint is crashing his one-man bleeding party.

“Sightseeing.” Clint winces as his ribs click under his hand. “Why are _you_ here?”

Murdock probes at his wound and hisses in pain. “Ninjas.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah.”

“New York City has ninjas?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s so cool. Why didn’t I know this?”

Murdock starts to answer, but then there’s little _fwip_ in his ear, and the world goes silent. Clint scowls and reaches up to his hearing aid, giving it a few taps. “Hang on,” he says. “My ears are broke.”

He fiddles for a few moments, but it’s hopeless. The battery is dead, and he’s too drunk to try and repair the other one. He sighs and slips both of them into his pocket. “I can’t hear you,” he says.

Murdock’s mouth pulls into an irritated frown, and he says something that Clint can’t quite see. “Look, it’s too dark for lip reading,” he says. “Do you know any sign language?”

Murdock just looks at him for a long moment. Or at least Clint thinks he’s looking at him. The face is turned towards him, anyway. Then, with exaggerated slowness, he mouths, _I’M BLIND._

“So?” Clint scowls at him. “You could still learn sign, it’s not that hard to do. I have some videos that I could—“ He cuts himself off suddenly, feeling like an idiot. “Oh. Right. I guess that makes sense.”

He can’t see Murdock’s face, but he’s very familiar with the _you-are-annoying-me_ body language being displayed, because he sees it at least seventeen times a day from Natasha and the others. “In my defense,” he says, “my blood is mostly alcohol right now.”

If Murdock’s eyes were visible, Clint is sure they’d be rolling. Instead, he lifts his bloody hand and points at the open lid, accompanying it with a series of lip movements that Clint’s pretty certain mean “Get the hell out of my dumpster.”

“Alright,” Clint says. “I’m going.” He forces himself up to his feet. “Do you want me to call someone, or do you want to wallow alone with your trash bags?”

“ _GO_ ,” Murdock mouths, bloody finger still pointing.

Clint goes. He climbs up the bags, awkwardly levers himself over the edge, and hits the concrete like a graceful sack of potatoes. Crazy Butch is gone, thank god for small miracles, and Clint manages to stumble his way out of the alley and back to his apartment without any other weird incidents.

Kate is waiting up for him when he pushes open the door. She says something that he doesn’t hear, and he waves her off. “Ears are broke,” he slurs.

_You smell like trash,_ she signs.

_Made a new friend._

_In a trash can?_

_Yes._

She shakes her head and guides him into his room. He collapses face-first onto the bed, and she pulls off his shoes. “You’re much nicer than dumpster guy,” he tells her, and she just shakes her head again.

_Sleep,_ she signs.

_Okay,_ he signs back, and passes out.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr!](https://feedmecookiesnow.tumblr.com/)


End file.
